The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1887-04-29

sparkIes rs it, pillows hurtle the phos-
phorescent fringe Of surf that seems 70
pour waves on waves Of glow-worms
upon the beach. Thus both walk on
until they reach bend In the road be-
tween two swelling downs. where the
broom and sea rushes clash their blades
together like 50 many bayonets.
The dog has drawn closer 70 his mas
ter and seems to say:
We'll. what do you think? A hum
dred and twenty fretzers to be placed
under lock and key in the safe as soon
as we get back home! That's the way
TO build up a fortune! lis another
piece Of ground added to the vine in
closure! Another dish added to the
evening meal! Another bowl Of wash
for faithful Hurzof! Nothing like At
tending patients who are willing TO un-
loose their purse strings!'
At this point the old woman stopped.
| She pointed q finger palsied with age
toward red light, some way on in the
gloom; the house evidently Of Wort Kar-
| iii. the herring-curer
| "Therep' laconically put in the doc
tor.
yes" nodded the Heterogeneous
mother.
'.Hurrah- wow-wow!' struck up Hur-
zof.
just then the vanglor, vibrating to
its foundations with noise like thun-
der. threw up one huge mass Of fuligin-
Gus flames that rent the clouds. DIR.
Trifulgas was thrown to the ground by
the force of the corcussion. Regaining
his footing, however, he swore like q
trooper and looked around.
The old woman had disappeared. She
must have fallen through some deep
crevice in the ground. or taken flight
on the floating fog clouds Of ocean.
The dog. nevertheless. was there, up
right on his launches, his mouth wide
open. but the light Of his lantern was
blown out.
.sNevcr mind" mumbled the doctor,
"let's 90 on"
The honest man had pocketed his
100 fretzcrs, and now felt that he must
earn them.
A lone light was visible in the dis
lance, half kertse away. Doubtless
it was the lamp Of the dying, or, per-
chance, dead man. and yondcr must
be the herring-curer's abode. There
cruld be no mistake, for the old woman
had pointed 1t out. And SO thinking
under the whistling whiffs OF the wind
and the driving swash Of the rain, with
the whole noise Of the storm in hi
ears, DR.. Trifulgas hurried on in thu
direction of the house which. standing
in front Of wide heath, became more
distinctly perceptible as the wayfarel
approached.
1t was q singular and noteworth,
fact to observe how much the house o.
the herring-curer looked like the doc
tors ''Six-Quatre" at Lrktrop. Their
was certainly the same arrangement il
the front windows and the littl'
vaulted door at the side.
DIR. Trifulgas strobe on as fast as thu
driving gusts Of wind and rain woult
allow. He reached the door. which
was ajar. pushed 1t open, and entered
the force Of the blast closed it behint
him with bang.
The dog outside howled or was silen
by turns, rs when choristcrs chant thu
verses Of forty hours psalm.
How very strange! 1t might almos
be affirmed that DIR. Trifulgas had
come back to his own place. This
however, could not be. He took ne
wrong turning on the road. nor did h
lose his way. No. he was certainly a
Val Carniou, and not at Luktrop. Yet
how came it that his eye dwelt on thu
same low. vaulted corridor, the same
winding staircase, and the same mas
sive wooden railing, hand-worn lik'
his own?
He mounted the stairs and stopPet
on the landing.
A faint light came from under TIL
door. as at the ''Six-Quatre.
Was il a snare or delusion. BY tn
uncertain glimmer Of the lamp h
vaguely recognized his own room
There was the yellow sofa, and Their
on the right was the old oak chest; ans
there on the left was the iron-boun'
safe in which he purposed placing hi
40 fretzers. Yonder, again, were hi
armchair. with its leather tassels, hi
table with its convoluted legs, and up
on it, by the pickering lamp, his owl
Codex. still open at page 1917.
"What ails mcP" murmured the doc
tor.
What ais you? Why, you are pal
sled with fright. Your eyeballs star
from their sockets. Your body con
tracts and dwindles in size. An ic,
sweat chills your skin. on which name
less horrors silently creep. Quick, o
the lamp win 60 out for lack Of oil
and the sick man die. Yes, the bed
/, there-his own, one would think, wit
: its pillars and baldaquin-a bell q
: broad as IL is long. and the closed cur
! tains with their large inwrcugh